Click
by Shipperwolf
Summary: Another 'movie night' fic, not related to my other. Megamind lets his thoughts roam, ponders the past, and challenges himself on his true nature. A bit of romance, a bit of angst, a bit of...darkness? An insight to our blue hero's persona.MM/RR


WOOT, my second Megamind post! Okay, ppl, this fic is gonna seem really...eh...'rambly'...but it DOES have a point..I guess. I think. I dunno.

I have habit of doing this-jumping into a character's head (or TRYING to anyway) and rambling on about what I think is in there.

So forgive me if this seems long, drawn out and possibly OOC? Mega isn't entirely his goofy self in this...but then again, he does have a serious side, yes?

Anyway, lemme know how it is and whatnot. Enjoy!

I disclaim Megamind entirely...again.

* * *

_Click._

She liked scary movies. He wondered if that was why she never seemed afraid when he'd kidnapped her in the past.

_Click._

She had guts. They had just watched one about a virus that turned people into undead flesh-eaters (that would have made SUCH an evil plot…alas….no longer a villain)….and she had never once turned her head or hid her face when the "zoombies" devoured another poor victim.

_Click._

He had honestly felt somewhat sickened by some of the more gruesome scenes. And once or twice he had to fight the instinct to look away.

_Click._

Not Roxanne. She kept those adorable eyes glued to the screen the entire time. She'd mentioned it being one she'd never seen before. He'd asked if she watched such violent films often.

_Click._

She'd laughed. He'd fought the urge to swoon in front of her. No, she'd explained. It wasn't necessarily the genre she preferred—"I actually like romantic movies the most."—she didn't rush to the nearest "they-ay-ter" to watch the latest horror films. But when one came on TV, she didn't mind staying up late to watch.

_Click._

So this night, they had. He….liked it. Enough. He wondered if he too would prefer these "romance" movies, however. They hadn't gotten around to watching one, yet. This movie night was the first change from their usual "action film" ritual.

_Click._

Perhaps she hadn't suggested a romantic movie before due to the slow progression of their relationship? They were, as he understood it, "taking it slow and steady". Or perhaps…he was just trying to analyze Roxanne a bit too much.

_Click._

They had settled into a comfortable silence near the end, watching the heroes blast their way out of the swarms of undead….the "zombie hordes", she'd explained? He'd cocked his head to the side, his eyes listing to the right to look at her. Her chin met her chest as she dozed. He let her.

_Click._

He found he liked buttons. Back in the day (not so long ago, he reminded himself), he especially liked buttons that blew things up. He looked forward to the sound—CLICK—that signaled a fantastic explosion of destructive or pyrotechnic nature. It made him nearly shiver in excitement.

_Click._

So here he was, mindlessly clicking away at Roxanne's TV remote. He wasn't truly trying to find something else to watch. He simply liked the sound, and it was currently helping him think…reminisce…

_Click._

He wondered if he would always find explosions so thrilling. He wondered if he would ever be able to laugh like a normal person (he STILL sounded evil). He wondered if he could ever look at his various inventions without still feeling a small prick of deviousness in the back of his mind.

_Click._

He wondered if he would ever be truly good.

_Click._

He wondered if he WAS truly good.

_Click._

He knew he had morals. He knew right from wrong. And in the past few weeks since becoming the 'hero', he'd tried incredibly hard to do the right thing…in every aspect of life.

_Click._

He thought back to earlier that night. They had just started the movie. Roxie was leaning forward eagerly—God, she was cute—and something in him twitched. The smile on her face as she began to explain what the 'undead' were, the way she innocently rocked back and forth, her legs crossed underneath her…

_Click._

Something dark had leaked its way into his mind for just a moment. He'd wanted to pull her against him, quickly, forcibly, and see her eyes widen in surprise and….fear?

_Click._

WAS he good? Or was he just kidding himself? Was he truly dark, sinister, violent…

_Click. Click._

Evil?

_Click._

She moved. His eyes snapped down to look at her. A grumble escaped her lips in her sleep. He smiled. She wouldn't love him if he was evil. And she'd told him she loved him. That night.

_Click._

Her head rolled back, and another mumble. It sounded…troubled? He could see her eyes moving rapidly behind the closed lids. A nightmare?

_Click._

Her brows furrowed. She murmured a bit louder now, but still incoherent. He watched, a strange, and honestly silly feeling of protectiveness overcoming him. What…was he going to jump into her dream and save her? He shook his head and scolded himself.

_Click._

And then she whined. His ears moved slightly to catch the sound. She cried. She seemed on the verge of frightened tears. Still asleep…

_Click._

He thought, in this moment. If he were evil…he would find pleasure in this. Her fear. He would grin at the sight.

_Click._

But he didn't. His hand dropped the remote, and moved on its own accord to her face. He brushed his knuckles against her cheek, reached up to push the stray hairs away from her forehead. She tensed. He opened his mouth for the first time in nearly an hour.

"Don't worry, Roxanne…I'll protect you."

She relaxed. He smiled.

No….he wasn't evil. Maybe misled, in his childhood. Maybe prone to darker thoughts than most. Maybe very good at creating villainous plots and weapons.

But not evil.

Evil would not love this woman the way he did.

He stood then, a strange swell of assurance building in his chest. It felt…heroic. Right. Good.

Picking up the still sleeping woman, he made his way to the bedroom.

As his eyes dilated in the darkness of the hallway, he found he could see almost clearly the dark shape of her doorway. He nudged it open with his foot.

The bed looked welcoming. Laying her down, he pondered for a moment whether to climb in beside her.

No…he'd never even been in her bedroom before this night.

It wouldn't be proper…

It wouldn't be right.

And he found, as he pulled the comforter over her sleeping (and now curling adorably like a kitten—GOD SHE'S CUTE) form, that he SO wanted to be right.

He wanted to be good.

And he would.

For her.


End file.
